


Say No

by youngscrappynhungry (blahblahgirlie_7)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahgirlie_7/pseuds/youngscrappynhungry
Summary: Hamilton is interrupted by a knock at the door.You all know what comes next.





	Say No

_There’s nothing like summer in the city. Someone under stress meets someone looking pretty… ___

Alexander Hamilton was startled out of his concentration by a soft knock on the door. He flinched, upsetting the ink bottle and ruining a good page of writing. He groaned, rubbing unfocused eyes in a vain attempt for clarity. It was dark out and quiet, and he assumed it was rather late. He had no idea how long he'd been working, just that he felt like he hadn't slept in a week. There was another knock and in the half-light and fatigue he thought for a moment that it was Laurens before he remembered. Then he thought of Eliza, but she was upstate with the children. He needed a break, he thought. But Angelica was right, he needed to get his plan through congress, and that was why he had twin hand cramps and a stabbing pain in his lower back. He ran a hand through his hair, noting that he should maybe wash it soon, but it slipped his cluttered mind when he heard another knock.

He stood gingerly, realizing with muted worry that he may not have moved for days, which brought on concerns about food, and water, and bathing, and then writing to Angelica and Eliza, which caused more stress and urgency about work… God, he really needed a break. Another knock poked the embers of his irritation, and in a fit of movement, he grabbed the candle, raked a hand through his hair, and stormed to the door like a man possessed. If it was Jefferson, or Adams, or Madison, or Burr… he couldn't be held responsible for his actions. Fully prepared to start yelling, he flung the door open, not managing to stir the figure on the other side. Huddled in the damp shadows just inside the doorway, he couldn't make out who they were. Great. That was just what he needed, a vagrant begging for money that he didn't have. Running the treasury didn't mean he was running the treasury, despite Burr’s accusations. He didn't have time to deal with this, he’d turn them away quickly and get back to work. He opened his mouth to say  
  
“Hello? Would you like to come in?” What was happening to his mouth? Had the sleep deprivation finally got to his brain? He was still standing in the doorway, dumbfounded, when the figure melted out of the shadows and slunk into the anteroom of the house. Water ran small tracks down a large black cloak and puddled on the floor. It looked like a woman, but which woman, he had no idea. He closed the door softly on the blurred streetlamps, and suddenly the room was cast with the light of the sordid romances you heard whispers about on the street and heard the drunk boast about in the tavern as men clinked glasses to another well-earned conquest. Alex felt suddenly shy in the intimate lighting. The woman hadn't said a word, but stood patiently, identity draped under the hood of her cloak.

“May I ask who I have the pleasure of meeting?” He inquired politely for half one in the morning, making half an inclination at the waist. She stretched out a small hand and slender wrist, which he admired privately as he placed the customary air kiss above it. The woman laughed, and god, it was a husky, low sound that hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Mrs. Maria Reynolds,” She said, lifting both arms up to pull the hood down. The hood came off quickly, though it was eons in Alex’s eyes, miles of honey skin, and red red red lips and soft nose and dark eyelashes and waterfall of dark curls that made a quiet swish as she looked up into his eyes. Alexander was awake.

“I know you are a man of honor, and I’m so sorry to bother you at home, but I don't know where to go, and I came here all alone…”

He awkwardly realized three things at the same time, and the result was a fumble for her wet cloak that grazed her side, a garble of words falling out of his mouth and a rake of his hand through his hair.

“Here, let me take your cloak, sit down, what's going on?” He asked her, attentive at once and having long forgotten about his work. She turned her dark eyes on him in gratitude and he melted. He threw the cloak in some unimportant corner of his house- there were many- and led her to an armchair before the embers of a fire that was surprisingly still giving off warmth. She sat, and a little bit of the air that had puffed her up seemed to escape. She sank down, and he sank to his knees in front of her. She looked at him, tired eyes meeting tired eyes.

“My husband’s doing me wrong, beating me, cheating me, mistreating me…” Her eyes turned downcast and stormy, and Alex caught himself leaning forward on his knees. “Suddenly he's up and gone, I don’t have the means to go on,” She curled in on herself like she was ashamed, red dress framing her defeated figure in a violent halo. He leaned in, wanting to say everything, opening his mouth. She looked up at him, tears brimming in her heated eyes. Her red lips trembled just so that Alex couldn't take his eyes off them, could barely force words out of his open mouth.

“God, I’m sorry to hear that,” He said finally, forcing himself to lean back. “I’ll do everything I can to help you,”

“Oh,” She said in a voice that was a fraction of her usual low tones. She turned away as if in gratitude that she couldn't express, but Alex knew better. She had profiled herself in a way that was too perfect to be unintentional, a finger resting gently on that trembling lower lip. Alex didn’t mind. “I don’t want to be any trouble, sir,” Her hand dropped from her full lips to rest over her equally full bosom.

“NO,” Alex practically shouted, eyes dropping like her hand had. “It's no trouble at all. I want to help. I can help. I can help you,” He said, with the sense of one making a decision that will change the course of their lives in some currently unforeseen way.

“You're too kind sir,” She hummed softly, rewarding him with a quick flash of white teeth from behind the plump lips that shaped words so prettily.

“I’ve got a thing that I'm working on now,” He gestured behind him vaguely with no desire to leave, and watched the beautiful face in front of him crumple. “I mean, let me clean up a bit and then I can loan you some money, and maybe walk you back home?” Mrs. Reynolds looked doubtful for a moment, but something in his weary face must have changed her mind.

“Do you mind if I come with you?” Alex hesitated briefly, hand hovering on the back of his chair. She was already turning away with a glance of sorrow, and moving closer to the light. “Alright, but it will have to be quick. It's rather late.”

They left his house five minutes later, walking briskly in the darkness, occasionally illuminated by streetlamps. She walked confidently for someone who had been abused, Alex noticed, as he quickened his strides to keep peace. The 30 pounds pressed against his chest urgently, and for a second he considered letting her walk the rest of the way alone. She only lived a block away, but it was the longest block of Alex’s life. Her face was thrown into sharp relief under every streetlamp and sunken shadows when they passed. In this way she flickered in and out of existence like flame, teasing him with every glimpse of smooth skin and dripping hair. Suddenly, she stopped. Alex looked at her curiously. Her laugh rumbled toward him and turned his stomach.

“This one’s mine sir,” She said lowly. Her voice was deep and melodious, a sound that caressed the ear and stayed rooted in the brain, an elusive note that could not be replicated except from her own lips.

“Well, I should head back home,” Alex said nervously as she deftly unlocked the door. Wordlessly, she waved him inside, slipping out of her large black cloak. Suddenly, Alex was standing in the hallway, coatless, the only memory of how he had gotten there the whispered word “come” and the pressure of a soft hand on the small of his back. In such close proximity, he could smell her perfume and nearly hear his heart beating out of his chest.

He held the money in its envelope clasped tightly in his hands, and was thinking about dropping all and running back home to drown his mistakes in writing and never tell Eliza what happened. Then Maria Reynolds came back with a candle clasped in her hands and led him further down the hall. He watched her hips sway invitingly like Eliza’s before he realized what he was doing and groaned. She half turned with a low smile on her mesmerizing red lips before pushing a door open. She set the candle down and turned and Alex had a second to see her victorious eyes before his mouth was full of soft lips and hands were full of soft curves.

A klaxon sounded in Alex’s head and he pushed back from her. She stumbled backwards until the backs of her knees caught on the bed and Alex felt guilty before he remembered what she had done to him. She looked up at him with large, innocent eyes that pleaded helplessness while her slim fingers worked up to the top of her stays. Time stretched around him as the thought of his home pulled him out the door and the sight of her fingers unlacing her corset pulled him closer to her. She bit her lip in concentration and Alex took a step forward, feeling his resolve weaken like heated iron. He watched himself take another step closer as if he had abandoned his body and was powerless to stop it. He started praying. Lord show me how to say no to this, I don’t know how to say no to this…

She looked so easy, sitting on her bed in that red dress, hand sliding into her lap. She finally looked up at him, and he felt himself rushing back into his head, and he was staring at her, and that was it. He lurched toward her he was dying and she was a tall glass of water. Their mouths met in the middle, colliding hard enough to make her head snap back. Alex pushed her harder into the mattress, angry at himself, hearing the screaming voices in his head begin to quiet. She made a little noise in her throat that made some sort of masculine pride rush over him and suddenly, he was focused on pulling more of those sounds from her. He ground down with his thighs, and she groaned, but pushed him back enough that she could speak.

“Stay?” Her voice around the word almost did him in right then and there, and he would have laughed at the contradiction of insecurity and sensuality if it hadn’t been for the gentle rolling of her hips against his that made his concentration stutter. He kissed her instead of answering.

“Hey…”

She pulled back with bruised lips and a warm hand on his neck and breathed nonsense words onto his panting tongue. He looked at her one last time, and something in his fiery eyes made her surrender, legs falling _open _to welcome him, and he didn't, couldn't, say no.__


End file.
